The Storm Builds
by The Dark Knight's Revenge
Summary: Danaerys Targaryen finds out she is pregnant with the child of her consort, Jon Snow. With trouble about to break loose in the North and other concerns on their plates, how will Jon and Danaerys navigate the Game of Thrones now?
1. Chapter 1

Danaerys stared down at the privvy in disbelief, looking at the remains of her dinner from the night before. This was the fifth morning that week that she'd been sick, and she couldn't quell the flutter of nervousness and disbelief.

Could she really be with child?

She had believed for years now that she was barren, that her only children would be her dragons. The possibility that she could conceive had never even crossed her mind.

Overwhelming was an understatement.

This child would absolutely change everything. This type of union between the Targaryens and the Lord of the North would likely cement them as allies for good.

Gods, Jon...

First, she would have to tell him. She should get a raven out to him immediately. If he had to make it to her side in eight months time, he needed to be aware of when to start from the North. And then there was the question of whether he would stay-

No. Danaerys stopped halfway down the corridor. She had to tell Tyrion first. She started down the hallway, then stopped again. She had to go back to her chambers and get dressed.

Fifteen minutes later, Danaerys was sitting up in her study, properly dressed, her heart thudding beneath her breast. She'd declined Doreah's offer of wine, but still wished she had some to steady her nerves.

Tyrion's inevitable knock made her jump.

"Enter." She said, clenching her hands beneath her desk to cease their shaking.

Tyrion walked in, eyebrow raised. He stood before her desk, declining her gesture towards the opposite chair.

Danaerys started to speak, but she found that her throat was stuck shut. She shut her mouth and stared out the open window space.

"Should I be worried?" Tyrion asked in his usual dry way. Danaerys laughed in spite of herself, feeling surprising tears spring from her eyes. To her surprise, Tyrion came around the opposing chair to sit down.

"You're pregnant, aren't you?" Tyrion said. He knew. He always did.

"Yes. Can you believe it?" She was crying in earnest now.

"Well. I guess the matter of succession is solved." Tyrion said simply. "But there is another matter."

"I am not married?"

"No, I don't think anyone could force you to marry if they tried." Tyrion shook his shaggy curls. "But you are now more vulnerable than ever. And you will continue to be vulnerable as long as the child is alive."

A chill ran down Danaerys' spine. Her goals of creating a safer world were hardly realistic once her claim to the throne was established by bloodline... She could easily end up cold and childless like Cersei Lannister. All it would take is an arrow or two...

"Obviously, you need to inform Jon Snow. I should imagine he will be surprised."

"Hardly." Danaerys snorted. "I think he was more adamant about attempting conception than you."

"I think the only thing Jon Snow is adamant about is those blasted white walkers. Conception probably seemed like a side conquest."

"Ever the optimist." Danaerys smiled.

"Allow me my concerns. Someone has to worry about you two headstrong fools. God help me when your child gains the power to walk."

"You're not upset?" Danaerys asked as Tyrion made to take his leave.

"No, my queen. Merely concerned." Tyrion replied, giving her his best tight-lipped smile. Danaerys watched him leave, then relaxed into her chair. Her hands fluttered to her now-flat abdomen.

Doing some quick calculating, the night spent with Jon Snow had been over two months ago... leaving only seven more until she could be expected to deliver.

She reached out a surprisingly steady hand for paper and quill. How to even begin this letter...?

 _Jon Snow, Lord of the North in Winterfell..._

 _I am pleased to inform you that our efforts have not been in vain and there will be a delivery before winter truly comes. If you can be spared, please attend me at Dragonstone at earliest convenience. Please accept this gift of supplies on behalf of the Targaryen throne._

 _Danaerys Targaryen, Queen at Dragonstone_

She hated how formal it all sounded. If allowed, she would write something more personal. But likely the missive would be read by other eyes. She just hoped he would understand her meaning right off the wing.

She dispatched the message with Doreah, ignoring her sparkling eyes for the time being. They would speak later.

She fixed her gaze out over the stormy shores of Dragonstone, allowing her mind to drift. She would be lying if she said her whole body wasn't laced with impatience at Jon's far-off return. After she had dispatched him to the North, she had sailed directly to Dragonstone with only a weak goodbye and a final kiss in her cabin. Her heart had secretly ached for him and she suspected he felt the same. They were very similar.

* * *

Jon Snow stalked back and forth across the ramparts of Winterfell, vaguely watching the movement in the courtyard below, but not really seeing anything. His thoughts were miles away in two different directions.

There had been no word from The Wall in days. Similarly, there had been no word from Dragonstone in weeks. He wasn't sure which one concerned him more.

"You're brooding." Sansa's voice came from a nearby stairwell.

"I know it." Jon growled back.

"Is it the North?" Sansa asked, moving out from the shadows. She looked ill-rested. "Or is it the South?"

"Both." Jon replied honestly.

"You worry for the dragon queen." Sansa said.

"Perhaps." Jon replied. He didn't know if he worried for Danaerys... But he worried about not being with her.

"Sir! My Lord!" The Maester hustled up the stairs, panting as he went. "Urgent news from Dragonstone and the North."

"Give it to me." Jon said, practically snatching the scrolls from the Maester. Noting Sansa's watchful eyes, he opened the hastily squashed missive from the North first. It was in hasty, poor scrawl.

 _The wall is breached. There is a dragon. God help us._

Jon sucked in a breath. A dragon. The fucking Night King had resurrected Dany's dragon. He wanted to scream and go weak in the knees at the same time.

He crumpled that note and moved to the more neatly rolled scroll, presumably from Danaerys herself.

 _Jon Snow, Lord of the North in Winterfell..._

 _I am pleased to inform you that our efforts have not been in vain and there will be a delivery before winter truly comes. If you can be spared, please attend me at Dragonstone at earliest convenience. Please accept this gift of supplies on behalf of the Targaryen throne._

 _Danaerys Targaryen, Queen at Dragonstone_

He must have really gone weak at the knees this time, because Sansa was suddenly at his elbow, steering him towards the stairs and his study.

"Wait until we're alone." Sansa growled, kicking him along. Jon didn't protest.

Once in his study, Sansa tossed him in a chair with alarming strength.

"What is it?" She barked.

"The Wall has fallen." Jon said hoarsely. "And Danaerys Targaryen is going to have my child."

Sansa's mouth opened and closed like a very pretty fish. Then she summed up the entire situation in a choice sentence.

"Motherfucker."


	2. Chapter 2

Jon pinched the bridge of his nose and willed his headache away. He'd had the quill in his hand for ten minutes and hadn't managed to pen his reply to Danaerys. He didn't know how to tell her that he wouldn't be coming to Dragonstone after the winter ended. He didn't expect to live long enough to see his babe. But he didn't know if that was wise to tell her.

 _Danaerys Targaryen, Queen at Dragonstone_ he began. Then he decided to throw caution to the wind.

 _Winter is here, love. The Wall has fallen. We will be overrun in a matter of weeks or days. Would it be that I could rest easy in your arms, I would. But my duty is to the North. It pains me to tell you that the Night King has taken your child for his own uses and that was his means of felling The Wall. While that monster draws breath I cannot leave, I will protect my own child from afar._

 _Yours with faith,_

 _Jon_

He sat back in his chair and felt his heart ache. He of all people hated to admit when the odds were stacked against him, but it looked to be that they were well and truly fucked. He missed Danaerys. Her strength and candor always fanned the fire in his belly.

"Are you quite finished?" Sansa's voice came from the fire. She'd been brooding there since he had given her the news about Danaerys and The Wall.

"Yes. Summon the Maester." Jon replied, matching her tone.

"I hope you're happy." Sansa said, rising in a rustle of furs and going to the door to let the Maester in.

"Really, sister? Would you like to check your words?" Jon barked.

"No." Sansa replied. "You never should have gone South. You've made a mess of everything."

Jon felt her quip like a kick in the groin. She was right, the entire situation was his fault. Without his meddling, the Night King would not have a dragon, the dead would be looking at the wall instead of marching over it, and Danaerys would likely have overthrown Cersei Lannister without the bat of an eye.

"Stop mooning." Sansa said, watching him like a hawk.

"Leave me." Jon replied. The Maester came in, looking between the two with some concern. Sansa swept out and Jon handed his scroll to the Maester.

"Use your swiftest bird." He said, letting the small scrap of paper go and feeling his stomach turn.

* * *

 _Danaerys Targaryen, Queen at Dragonstone._

 _Winter is here, love. The Wall has fallen. We will be overrun in a matter of weeks or days. Would it be that I could rest easy in your arms, I would. But my duty is to the North. It pains me to tell you that the Night King has taken your child for his own uses and that was his means of felling The Wall. While that monster draws breath I cannot leave, I will protect my own child from afar._

 _Yours with faith,_

 _Jon_

In spite of herself, Danaerys felt tears welling up in her eyes, closely followed by unchecked rage. The Night King had resurrected HER dragon for his armies? Well, let her show him the meaning of fire.

"Tyrion!" She snapped. He sidled in, having followed the raven's message to the door of her study.

"You want to ride North." He said wearily.

"No." Danaerys replied. "I've learned from that. I want to know what we _can_ do."

"You said the Night King felled your dragon with a long spear. What if we construct armor for the dragons?"

"Armor?" Why hadn't she thought of that?

"Mayhap we could forge armor plates from the dragon-glass stores, support them with metal, and some chain underneath.

"I'd like to see you try and put armor on a full-grown dragon." Danaerys said bemusedly.

"You would have to cow them into submission." Tyrion replied patiently.

"But would dragon glass and metal work against the teeth of another dragon?" Danaerys asked. She stood and went to the window opening, watching the waves below.

"I'm not sure I follow." Tyrion followed her over.

"The Night King has resurrected Viserys and used his power to fell The Wall."

Tyrion looked like someone had dropped a bucket of water on him.

"He can do that?"

"It would appear so. It pains my heart to think of it." Danaerys said quietly.

"This... Changes everything." Tyrion's voice faltered for once. Danaerys turned to look at him, seeing the same concerns mirrored in his eyes.

"I... am concerned for the Lord of the North."

"I as well. But you've had more than enough stress for one afternoon, I suggest you rest and give me time to think. Then we will call a consult in the map room."

"Ordinarily I'd agree, but I am surprisingly weary." Danaerys said. She wasn't lying. Her strength was already feeling slightly sapped, a symptom of her condition, no doubt. She turned to take her leave, picking up her brocade dress so as not to trip.

"We will find a way to help him." Tyrion said softly. Danaerys looked at his sturdy outline against the grey ocean light. Pangs of fear jumped in her stomach, but she trusted him.

* * *

Jon brooded. He couldn't help it. He had absolutely no ideas as to how to stem the tide of the dead running at them full force.

Sansa had already suggested evacuation, and he'd had to agree. He'd sent as many riders as possible to warn the outlying steads, but he had a feeling it wouldn't be enough. Without a veritable place to run to, they were finished.

That was why, when a very bedraggled Jaime Lannister strode into his study he nearly had a heart attack. And an idea.


End file.
